Dance cards:
by Howlynn
Summary: We all know in theory what was required of victors.Short glimpses of appointments. Some funny, some sad, some hot, some cold. Review and request. Will be Rated M because sex is scarier than death. Haymitch,Finn, Brutus, Johanna,Chaff
1. Haymitch on account

**Dance Cards: Haymitch on account**

**Author**: **Howlynn**  
><strong>Realm<strong>: _The Hunger Games_, Suzanne Collins  
><strong>Story Title<strong>: Dance Cards: Haymitch on account.  
><strong>Summary<strong>: _We all know in theory what the victors have to do. This is a little Peek into our favorite victor's appointments. Several drabbles and bits – some will be funny, some sad, who knows, maybe both. Rated M - because sex is scarier than death to most people. _  
><strong>CharacterRelationships**: Effie and Haymitch.

I** Disclaimer:** All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

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><p>Haymitch pulled at his damned frumpy tie. Twenty-three years of this shit and still primped and pimped. Hell, he hated it so much he refused to take a shower any other time. Having the hairs plucked from his groin was no more fun now than the first time it occurred. His year as a tribute, when they made him look pretty so the crowds would not be offended by a few stray pubic hairs as they watched his intestines try to escape from the confines of his body, was still his favorite.<p>

He hoped this stupid bitch wasn't one of the kinky ones. He'd nearly come to the point that he hated women and he flat out hated men long ago. He rattled his box of peppermints. That always drove the silly ones wild and saved his gag reflex for more important matters, like booze. He had other devices he called tongue-savers. ' Avoxy' is code word for victors, for tongue-shriveling awful appointment. The peppermint helped, but even that was not enough for some of his encounters.

Once the kids entered the arena, he would have time off, plus twenty-four hours after they met fate. They never made him take appointments while he had living tributes, but that was because he was the only mentor for District 12. Odair was not as lucky. They pawed him during his tributes battles and most of the year for that matter. He only got away from it when he began to wear so thin they had to let him have a few weeks back in four. Healing was often the only time poor Finn was allowed a few days of sanity in a row.

Haymitch took one last pull from his flask, sighed and knocked on the door. It swung open and he entered. His pasty smile turned genuine as he saw who he was required to fulfill wild dreams for this night. Opening ceremonies going off like a blaze of perfection and now this, the day may be recorded as one of his better. "Hello, Effie. And here I thought I had offended you at the reaping, my dear?"

"You are a wicked man. How dare you kiss me before all Panem and play like you were so drunk. You could have been injured," she says, crossing her arms in annoyance.

"I was drunk. Bulletproof actually. Peeta had to help me take a shower in fact. That got us off to a good start." He inhaled her deeply as he took her in his arms. He nibbled at her neck.

She shoves him away and he smirks and just stands there waiting. Effie glares at him as he pops two peppermints in his mouth and grins at her with them clenched in his teeth. Fury fills her face as she asks, "Are you saying I am going Avoxy? You asinine weasel…"

"No, I am not saying that. I should have not opted for the second helping of garlic sauce if I had known it was you. You paid for the asinine weasel; there is still time for a refund minus the monkey duds and the restocking fee." Haymitch crunches the mints seductively.

"You look very handsome in Cinna's design. Do you like it?" she asks shy but pleased with herself. She would never send him away for a refund. She had seen him punished for it once and had repaid the woman for her lie. Haymitch didn't even know she knew, much less that Effie had broken into the woman's house and replaced the shampoo controller with mild strawberry scented hair melting acid.

"It will just be on the floor ten minutes from now. Waste of money. You know why I do what I do. Not all of these encounters are within this realm. Why do you even do this, sweetheart? I have told you in the past we could arrive at other arrangements." His voice is a district purr that he somehow pulled off as the sexiest voice in the capitol.

Effie sighs. She shrugs a little and takes a seat on the couch. Patting it for him to join her, she says, "It is the only time you let me boss you around. "

"Who knows what would happen if we upset that balance of power. Your wig might change color if you let me be in charge for tonight. You'd want to follow me home to the coal mines, reeking with the unfortunate designation of Mrs. Abernathy. Before you knew it you would be firing pink headed babies and ordering sumptuous bowls of dog chowder on cold winter days before curling up by the fire and telling me our gray snow is romantic, as you beg for my drunken kisses," he says all of this as he runs his hand up her arm, down her spine and moves his lips toward her soft neck again.

She kisses him, almost instantly in desire. She had never been able to understand the reaction she had to him. He worked at being as unfashionable and disgusting as he could. He often wished aloud that he could figure out Beetee's anti-seduction formula, but even at his worst, she wanted him. He was still expensive, but he was not overrated. Twice a year, she splurged. "That sounds like the most depressing proposal in the universe. Besides Haymitch, this keeps me honest. I will never make the mistake of dreaming I could have you all to myself. Seeder and Chaff have made this life work for them, but I do not have that kind of fortitude. It would kill me if you were mine and you had to return to me after your dance cards had been danced. This is for the best, dearest man. I will keep you on account. Now take it off, all of it. And hang it up, neatly," she says with lust all over her face as she hands him a hanger.

Haymitch stands and bows slightly. His fingers slide the knot of the tie down in one motion, and whip it from around his neck. "Your wish Madam," he says as if she'd asked to lash him. He smiles painfully as he accepts the wooden hanger from her hand, with all the joy one would reserve for being handed a pet poisonous snake.

When she is finished with him, he does not rush away. He holds her and strokes her skin. She has pleased him, as always, and he loves her for it. Before he leaves, he pleases her again, just because he wants to.

"You know, Haymitch, you are worth every bit of the expense," she mumbles in his chest.

"I know, sweetheart. I love you too. And, I always will."

The following morning, as she rouses tributes and the most annoying mentor in the history of mentors, her mind goes a little loopy as she sees what hangs neatly in Haymitch's closet. "We have a really big...big…Big day."

Haymitch follows her glance to the suit hung with perfect care and he smirks. His eyebrows pop once and he gives her his most innocent little boy face for a split second, before resuming his hung-over grouchy scowl. A new tradition it wasn't, but one suit in Abernathy's painfully ugly wardrobe, never found the floor.

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><p><em><strong>Review Please - and feel free to request your pleasure - along with hotness level you require - evil grin. This story is an F1 - Haymitch - ie a little whirlwind...hehe. F5 is 200mph humpin' funnel cloud on the ground headed to the north east at 35 mph... please seek shelter. <strong>_


	2. 2 Dont do drugs  Finn

**Dance Cards: Don't do Drugs**

**Author**: **Howlynn**  
><strong>Realm<strong>: _The Hunger Games_, Suzanne Collins  
><strong>Story Title<strong>: Dance Cards: Don't do drugs  
><strong>Summary<strong>: _We all know in theory what the victors have to do. This is a little Peek into our favorite victor's appointments. Several drabbles and bits – some will be funny, some sad, who knows, maybe both. Rated M - because sex is scarier than death to most people. _  
><strong>CharacterRelationships**: Finnick and Haymitch – dealing with the small troubles of being a victor in a demanding world. F1 – just funny slash hints and flirting – no lemons

I** Disclaimer:** All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

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><p>Finnick is having one of those days. He had completed three appointments of the day, and each was more bizarre than first. He'd taken performance drugs at the last fiasco and it had left him a painful swollen problem. He sits in the victor's lounge, which served as his personal deserted outpost during off season, with his feet propped up and Ice on his groin, watching television with no sound and wishing he could just be dead.<p>

He closes his eyes, trying to keep his mind off his annual nightmare. The capitol throws an end game orgy each year. He seemed to be stuck in the roll of feature presentation to the brutal. They had nearly killed him last year and there had come a point in time that he really hadn't cared. He gave himself a fifty-fifty chance this year. The grand event was slipping forward and Finnick had made himself sick, every time he'd thought about it.

It hadn't been so bad once. He hoped they didn't kill the unfortunate Peeta next year. He wondered if Haymitch had explained it all to those poor kids yet. At least Finnick knew that if he survived this year, next year would be a breeze. Haymitch would be back to protect Katniss and Peeta, and Finnick would maybe get downgraded a few ticks.

He has balanced another pack of ice on his head and is just in that floating space between pain and almost relief. His head is comfortable against the wall, his chair in perfect equilibrium on two legs and the pain pills are kicking in, to almost allow him the nothing of an hour or two of death. Silence and alone is the purest pleasurable sensation Finn knows. Only in silence can he see the sea and her liquid eyes.

"Ah, the sexy life of Finnick Odair. How we envy him, one and all."

"Oh shit!" Finnick hollers as he loses his grip on peaceful death and edges, with crashing and graceless falling, toward actual painful death.

"Well, I knew you would be thrilled to see me, sweetheart, but really, I would settle for a wave and a stiff drink rather than a stiff…'"Haymitch smirks, "Miss me?"

"Shut up, Haymitch. A little help? What are you doing here?" Finn painfully untangles himself from his predicament while Abernathy stands over him smirking. He rolls his pants back over his still unfailing work related injury and stuffs the ice down his pants for good measure.

"Halftime business set up and a dance card filling up, while I am in town. Seven this week so far. A whore's work is never done."

Finn rolls his eyes. "Poor baby. Your pain is heartbreaking. Number four today is in two hours. I thought you got to be a drunken hermit, protector of the damned, these days."

"Well, the kids think that's all I do. They don't really feel the protective part, I'm afraid. But, if I was injured or missing and counting on a little help from the team on fire, I would die of old age before the girl would find me. Peeta could, if Katniss wasn't on a mission to kill him with anguish of the not speaking to him kind. They won't even miss me. Even this is more fun than they have been. They are both a pain in the ass, if you asked me," Haymitch says with disgust.

Finnick eases himself back into his chair with the grunts and groans of an old man. "Yeah, these new victors just seem different. Last year's managed to survive what, three weeks past his tour. Poor kid. The whole Juliette routine? Why did she bother with it? Why all the fuss if she is just going to ignore him?"

"She's mad about him. She's also the most obtuse, selfish, cruel thing I have ever seen, for a girl her age. She is worse than you. Arrogant as a hog." Haymitch sips the drink he's poured.

"Were you by any chance capitalizing on your victory with a certain girl's mama?"

Haymitch snorts, "Not when she actually showed up, I wasn't. Left me for her husband. "

Finnick laughs. "But you admit that…" he pauses and winks, "She has your scowl, you know."

There is a silent pause then Haymitch snorts a gruff laugh and says, "I know, but she's still a pain in the ass." Haymitch's eyes shine a little. He side-glances Finnick watching his reaction to his long held secret. One corner of his mouth slides just far enough to pull a dimple out of long term storage at Finnick trying to hide his shock. He sighs.

Finn doesn't laugh, but the events of the last games certainly take on new light. "That explains a few things. So, we have two sticks in the mud for the merrymaking. It's the revolt of Calamity Clueless and her mournful sidekick, Doughboy. Think it's going to work?" Finn asks, trying to keep the hope out of his eyes. Haymitch's revolt plans are about the only thing that keeps him in the world now.

He can't keep going, if this is all there is. Haymitch and his insanity have allowed Finnick Odair the tiny hope of someday. It is a someday filled with Annie alone, demanding his body, and making love instead of surviving sex. Haymitch had saved his life so many times he'd lost count. If Abernathy's rebellion fails, he would accept his punishment, and hope the way he'd ignored Annie for some time would convince them that she was no longer of any concern. He hoped. It was all he had left. Mags, Annie, Johanna and Haymitch were the only things that mattered enough for him to keep breathing.

"Trust me, sweetheart," Haymitch smirks and looks right at Finns crotch before returning to his eyes. "Are you going to put that thing away or are you trying to seduce me, Finn? It's working by the way."

Finn rolls his eyes. "Business hours, Hot Rocks. No can do. Must save the merchandise for the window. "

Haymitch shrugs. "Amateur. Change your mind let me know. Good to see you keep the commodities fresh and iced down for them. Oh, and I told you a month ago not to mix _Smiling Bob_ with _The Shine_ , you'd end up with a mess like that. Never seen anyone in my life who can get himself into more chemical enhancement disasters. You can blow your product out, you know. You won't like the consequences of that. " Haymitch reaches in his pocket and takes out a package. "Take this, drink three glasses of baking soda water, and try heat, instead of ice."

Finnick shrugs. "Thanks, Hay. I don't mean to…you know," he pauses, " I think he's finally found his way to torture me to death. Have you heard about this year's party?" he looks up at his friend with resolve. "I don't expect I can help you much. I may not be here," his voice is quiet and disheartened.

"I have heard, Finn. I have your wing. Why I flew in, to keep you safe from the scary monsters." Haymitch winks and spins to leave. "Dinner tonight, Crab-bucket. You don't want to offend your fairy-godfather."

"Haymitch! Hay…Thank you," Finn says eyes wide in relief. Haymitch just waves as if it is no big deal as he pushes open the glass door of the victors lounge. He watches Haymitch stroll up the grand hall with his sexy amble that Finn had never quite perfected. Haymitch is here. The party in question had resulted in a hospital stay for the last two years. Haymitch hadn't taken a party in the last three years, but he flew in, all the way from District 12 oblivion, to give him some hope of a damage free event.

Once Haymitch is out of sight, Finn breaks down and cries. Haymitch came all this way for him. Finnick realizes that it has been a long time since he felt so good. His last appointment isn't so bad. He heads home, grins in the shower, and dresses up in his own favorite cloths. Haymitch hobbles into the foyer. Finn rushes to the door in concern. Haymitch knocks loud on Finnick's door before he realizes Finn is already undoing the locks.

Finn grins as he opens the door. "Damned, you've been all this time on one appointment? What happened?"

"Not only did Mrs. Augustus have _Smiling Bob_ and a large dose of _The Shine_ in my dessert, she added it to my liqueur. I handed you the antidote. Let me in, before I die," Haymitch huffs.

Finnick laughs from deep in his belly. He helps Haymitch to a cushy chair. "Do you think she knew what would happen if she overdosed you on that?"

Haymitch growled as Finnick brought him an ice pack. "I must be rusty. Can't believe she tricked me."

"I know you said heat. But trust me on the cool first. Here I brought you the Bi-carb too. However we are both off the clock now. If you're trying to seduce me, Hot rocks, it's working." Finn leaned over the chair staring into the gray eyes that only appeared hard to people who didn't look deep enough.

Haymitch rattles the box of pills. He looks Finn up and down and tosses the pills on the table for now. "Come here, you pathetic guppy. Dinner can wait. I have a sweet tooth right now." Haymitch pulls Finn down into his lap and for now, this moment; there is comfort in being a victor.

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><p><em><strong>AN – Hay and fin F1 <strong>_

_**I named my fake capital enhancement drug after the best commercial ever—no not really – and a monster book by the same name. **_

_**Eventually there will be a slashy of Haymitch's 'victor training camp' with Finnick. But I have gotten a few requests that I will work on next.**_

_**I have been asked if I think everyone is gay-bi –etc. My motive for victors to have no boundaries is the fact that they have been capitol slaves for many years. Fun as that is – in canon Finnick admitted he was sold to both men and women. Now in my little pea brain – those barriers are broken by experience so they have learned to watch out for each other. One duty I often mention for Haymitch is that he has 'victor training camp' – he extends his knowledge and kindness to new victors so that their plight will have some degree of survivability. People who work in the oldest profession – do have tricks and techniques different from amateurs in pursuit of this hobby. Even 'Players' are often a wealth of very enlightening information. So in this training period, Haymitch does bond with some of them and he himself has found some measure of acceptance and comfort in his little lambs. (He has mixed feelings about what he does for them – he saves them from slaughter, but the lives they gain may or may not be worth the horror – his isn't. Is he helping or prolonging suffering?)**_

_**For the – why would they want to have sex when they are forced all the time? Well, think of it like this – at work it is just a physically demanding job – like loading and unloading a truck. Everyone craves love and kindness – they don't see that at work. At the same time – who, but each other, would want them? They can't promise any monogamous commitment to anyone and if they do love – it is just something else Snow can hold against them and eventually take. I imagine victors would be a very close knit bunch – that's my take…thanks so much for reading and reviewing. **_


	3. 3  An Ax to Grind Johanna

**Dance Cards: An Ax to Grind**

**Author**: **Howlynn**  
><strong>Realm<strong>: _The Hunger Games_, Suzanne Collins  
><strong>Story Title<strong>: Dance Cards: An Ax to Grind  
><strong>Summary<strong>: _We all know in theory what the victors have to do. This is a little Peek into our favorite victor's appointments. Several drabbles and bits – some will be funny, some sad, who knows, maybe both. Rated M - because sex is scarier than death to most people. _  
><strong>CharacterRelationships**: Johanna's first appointment –F2, Johanna is a new victor and this is my version of how the first time went. Thanks to the patient help of Finnick and Haymitch, she may have to survive the unthinkable, but the games will be played on her terms.

I** Disclaimer:** All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

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><p>Her hand is held by Haymitch as the stylists carefully remove the curling bobs from Johanna Mason's hair. They have learned that they must be careful with this victor; she is one of the violent ones. Her mood at this moment is like trying to balance a steal rod on sand. You know her temper is going to fall and give someone a headache, but the direction of impact is a mystery.<p>

"I'm scared, Haymitch." She admits, trying to remember not to chew on the fake nails. She frowns with anger, but doesn't look up at him.

"I know Jojo. Don't worry. If you can handle me, the rest will be easy," Haymitch says calmly, accompanied by a squeeze of his hand.

She laughs a little; he does have old growth in his pants. No matter how gentle he'd been, Johanna could barely accommodate Abernathy's huge tree. He is a tough log to saw. I was a good thing Finnick had been her first. Finnick is gorgeously endowed, but Haymitch is a freak of nature. "Will you get in trouble? "she asks, glancing at him.

"I am always in trouble. They never asked you specifically. It is simply to be expected that you had boyfriends. It will be fine." He glances at the stylist. "Hurry up. This isn't televised."

"Haymitch. Can I come here? After?" she asks, fidgeting uncomfortably, "I don't want to be alone."

"I'll have a drink poured and waiting and a big bath drawn with lime green bubbles and daisy petals." Haymitch is being sarcastic, but in a teasing fun way.

Johanna can't help but smile. "Hope you can swim. I may drown you if you have been tricking me with your foolish preparations." She threatens wryly.

Knocking on that first door is so hard. She stands in front of the cream and gold plate monstrosity like a good little lamb awaiting slaughter. It doesn't matter how pretty the gate to hell is. It doesn't matter that she has never seen more than log cabins and rough-hewn pine logging camps for most of her life. She knows now that cold winter wind, the smell of fresh cut wood and chapped lips is heaven. The path to hell is paved with deep purple shag, heavy stenches of nonexistent flower combinations and lips painted the gory color of death.

The door opens and the man smiles. "Johanna Mason, I have been waiting for you."

Her mouth drops open. She has met this man before. She had thought he was nice, for a capital idiot, but now she realizes, Caesar Flickerman is scum, just like them all. She smiles as if he is her new best friend, just like Finnick had taught her, and she curls herself to his arm and takes charge of the situation, just like Haymitch taught her.

"Well, what amazing thing isn't worth a little wait?" she purrs, giving him a fake wink of conspiracy and kissing his pale blue cheek. "I am so happy to finally answer that question I have had since my first interview with you?"

Caesar smiles a little bashfully, he can't blush with his dyed skin, but he isn't as confident in this private setting as he is making jokes before the cameras. "You had a question for me?" he snickers. Nobody ever asked about him. "What do you want to know?" he asks eagerly.

She smiles and leads him to the couch, not the bedroom. Let the patron talk about their favorite subject as long as possible. Talking is less physically demanding then dragging pleasure from clients who are not on the edge of need. Conversation and flirty reference will move them just as easily as being naked if you actively listen and pretend they are the most fascinating people you ever met. "Tell me all about being a big star. What is it like to be adored and loved by so many fans, Caesar? I can't believe you even pay for the privilege of letting me find out how much that skin dye of yours… covers?" She bats her lashes at him.

He grins and then chuckles. "Well, you will have to wait and see how much of me is blue. I wasn't always a star you know? It has been a long road my dear." He sighs with a far off smile.

"Really? How did you know what you wanted to do?" she curls up to him and begins stroking his leg and peaking between the space of his shirt buttons as if eager to discover all there is to know of him.

Caesar drones on for two hours about the intrigues and hardships of his difficult life. He is surprised how sympathetic and sweet this little ruffian victor is. He'd expected her to be a hard, brutal conquest, being her first appointment. Yet somehow, what has materialized instead, an intelligent girl who is an amazing conversationalist and seemingly delighted to be in his company, is more than he hoped for.

Her fingers have trailed his skin as they talked and he wants her so badly he can hardly contain himself. When Johanna has tortured him into a lengthy state of arousal, she gets things down to business. She slowly disrobes and he continues to expound on his colleagues lack of work ethics as he fondles her chest and imagines her breasts in a rainbow of hues.

He is not endowed with any grand staff of life and she fights the urge to laugh at his remarkably slight, blue twig he thrusts at her. Haymitch's words about if she could handle him, she had little to fear, have more value now that there is comparison, other than Finnick, in her experience. She wondered if she could have gotten the virgin fee for President Snow twice if Flickerman had been known to be her first client. She told the egotistical fool that blue suited him. She couldn't wait to make raunchy jokes with Finnick about Bleu Cheese and Caesar salad.

His attention didn't actually last more than three minutes, and seemed nearly funny that this almost ridiculous act had frightened her so. His eyes look at hers afterward, questioning if he should be embarrassed. She grins at him and whispers that he is magnificent and that she couldn't wait to see him again. He puffs up like a rooster and there is a spring in his step as he sees her to the door. He presses a set of emerald earrings into her hand as she stands on her tiptoes and thanks him sincerely for making her first time go so smoothly. He beams at her with eyes filling with the sparks of his intent to be her very best customer.

It was still hurtful, that she had no choice, but if he was going to be an average client, this was not the end of the world. She didn't cry on the way home. She looks at the pretty green sparkling earrings in her hand. She wishes her sister were alive. She would have sent them straight to district seven as a gift. She closes her eyes and smiles at what they would have said in the remote logging camps if her boyish sister had worn anything so frivolous and silly. Still, at a dance in the moonlight, they would have added a mystique and glamor that the boys would have found hard to resist. Her sister would have been bending the saw before she knew it. But she is dead and won't need earrings. She would have liked them anyway.

Here they have other names for what she does. Fancy words that mean the same as the word she knows for a woman in her situation. Johanna would never be a Goodwife, she is a Cash Sawbender. Those kind of women didn't marry. She had known who they were, just as everyone did. She had never thought about how they came to be Cash Sawbenders. It seemed more important to her now. It would be hard to ever go home to that giant victor monstrosity that had taken a whole forest of logs to construct. Maybe she should invite the others of unfortunate circumstance to come live with her. She could name her mansion Sawbender Island and throw raunchy capitol parties that would knock the knickers off the whole district.

She knocks softly on Haymitch's door, hoping he's not too drunk to hear her. The door opens and his face is clouded with fear and questions. "It was fine. Your tricks worked like a charm. Easier than I ever expected." She tells him quickly so that terrible face, filled with pain for her, will go away.

She slips her arms around him and bursts into tears. She didn't notice Finnick Odair, but he appears out of the bathroom, just as she has finished her little meltdown. Haymitch clears his throat. "These are from Blight. He wanted to be here, but he's got the peacekeeper awards thing." Haymitch hands her a large bouquet of daisies and chrysanthemums. Johanna knew. Blight had said that she had to meet with Haymitch, that only Haymitch knew how to take care of these matters. She had not understood. "Does Blight have this happen too?" she asks.

"You already know the answer, don't you, sweetheart?" Haymitch says in a gruff way, but not unkindly.

"Hey beautiful. Now comes the fun part. To wash away the icky, we treat you to a decadent pleasure of unmatched proportions." Finnick smiles and holds out his hand.

She glances at Haymitch confused. He is just smiling and letting his eyes twinkle at her. She follows Finnick into the bathroom and there in the massive tub built for ten, are lime green bubbles dotted with daisy petals. Candles blaze from corners and soft music plays.

"Hop in Jojo, I will wash your hair while Finn rubs your feet. We will move on from there. Anything you want. It is your night." Haymitch mumbles softly in her ear.

Johanna smiles. Nobody ever went to any trouble for her. She sighs a little, wondering how she could deserve this. Life in hell isn't so bad, with two big old fallen angels watching over her. She would survive this. She would live with all the capitol threw at her so long as she had her little demon helpers by her side. She didn't even get undressed; she just sunk into the hot water and then pulls the soaking ruined dress over her head, using it to scrub her face clean of all the capitol paint.

Finnick and Haymitch join her. Haymitch cradles her against him and his fingers work magic on her scull as she explains who her first client was and all about his blue parts. Insults are passed and all is well in Johanna's world while Finnick Odair rubs her feet and pours her another glass of champagne.

The two skilled companions give her release and more pleasure then she knew could exist. The favors are retuned in the flicker of the scented candles. This physical melding of friendship and desire makes her clean again and soothes her beasts of guilty sorrow. In this circle of broken hearts, joy is the welcome guest despite the capitols attempt to banish it from the lives of victors. Even victors have some small victories.

There will be other nights in this tub in which someone is held in pain, sorrow, or fear. This circle will have temporary additions at times. Johanna laughs as she imagines herself to be an ax. The capital is the grinding stone. But this bit of solace, like oil on a blade, will not grind her down. It will make her sharp and when finally she becomes a lethal, deadly cutting edge; her life will count in the skill with which she wields the vane. Hate makes her strong, but kindness gives her the control. Love is power. Like unexpected wind, she is filling her turbines with might.

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><p><em><strong>Why I called her a vane – it is a saw blade powered by wind or made to rotate with water. Vane is also the flat part of a feather, the interlocking rows of barbs on each side. Thus you have the illusion of a saw mill grinding wood to her will and the feather reference for someone who will be saved by her -a little bit of Mockingjay foreshadow. The little guiding blades on a missile are also known as vanes.<strong>_

_**Thank you for your reviews! My next one is going to be a companion to Pleasure to Burn(Haymitch and Cinna - an off shoot of a comment Haymitch made about Cinna in that story) - by request of Ellenka - it will more than likely be the one that bumps me into M - please feel free to check back anyway -There are still a ton of these to go and many will still be in the T range. Please review!**_


	4. 4 Cracking Ice

**Dance Cards: Cracking Ice**

**Author**: **Howlynn**  
><strong>Realm<strong>: _The Hunger Games_, Suzanne Collins  
><strong>Story Title<strong>: Dance Cards: Cracking Ice  
><strong>Summary<strong>: _We all know in theory what the victors have to do. This is a little Peek into our favorite victor's appointments. Several drabbles and bits – some will be funny, some sad, who knows, maybe both. Rated M - because sex is scarier than death to most people. _  
><strong>CharacterRelationships**: President Snow and Cashmere, a horrible kind of love. F2

Warning: Prostitution discussed, discussion of intended force, strong suggestion of incestuous relationship, planning of blackmail.

I** Disclaimer:** All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

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><p>"Have I displeased you in some way, Lanus?" Cashmere stands leaning against the door frame, arms crossed and cool pain crimping her lips into an excruciating smile of grief. This man she loves, who always spoke of her beauty, now calls for her destruction and her eyes beg him to give her any meaning to this betrayal.<p>

The president was not expecting her, yet he knew she would come here full of ire at what he has endorsed. He had only been informed of her arrival an hour ago. She wasted no time in seeking him.

He is devastated by the terrible news, broadcast before Panem, that this small exquisiteness in his life is to be lost by his own scheme to punish the suspected rebels. "No, my darling, you have never given me a moment's distress, until now. My mind is clogged with the horror. " No other Victor would have been allowed to simply slip into his office, unheralded and without summons. He sits, facing away from her, his chair swiveled and his view of her only visible in the curved window, radiance competing with the brilliant lights of the city.

"Then why? Gloss, Enobaria and me. You send us to death and I don't understand. How could you?"

President Snow stands and shoulders slumped with the burden of his stupidity, he looks at her with something near regret. "I'm sorry. I never expected this. I am caught in my own trap this time, damned that girl. Your chance was so small. I was so focused on stopping her. I overlooked my duty to you. "

"Then fix it. Remove us. Execute Dazzle for faking who was called and put Immaculate and Divine in the game instead. Announce that Dazzle rigged the drawing, or that he has confessed. Do you want to see me die? Me? I have always worked. I never ask for anything. I never refused an appointment. I have never refused you any pleasure you desired in me. You can't mean to tell me I mean so little to you?" She takes three steps into his office, not crying but eyes rimmed with the possibility.

The icy blue eyes lock on the cold dead ones and such pain is reflected that he can't swallow. The blood in his throat rattles to the rhythm of his shallow breath. He clears his throat into a napkin, but she doesn't flinch at the sight of blood on his lips. She moves to him and kisses it away, tongue darting to him in adoring fury. "I imagined you would surely know my pain, beautiful Darling. I have tried to think of some way. The ache of my heart knows no balm for this terror, but my grasp is so very delicate, that any upset would send us to pure chaos. If I removed you, they would question the entire game."

She nods. "So we die?"

His eyes search her face and he sees that she will obey even the command of death, if he requires it of her. He pictures her dead and shivers in revulsion. He could exist with her no longer alive. He can survive it, but he doesn't want to. His mind spins into the genius of desperation as his eyes and face blank with concentration.

"No. You must live. You will live. I am counting on you to help me. I am counting on you and your brother and even Enobaria and Brutus to end them all. I have given you the chance to be greater than that little hellion. If you kill her, think what it would mean." His hand hangs heavy in her hair as she melts to him, driving him mad with the soft heat she radiates.

"It means I must also kill my brother, my best friend and her lover, Lanus. How do I live with that? How do I look in his eyes and say we have served you long and well, but it was for nothing. You know he and I are more than that? You have always said we were like gods and it was beautiful. I cannot kill my brother-husband." Her head falls to his shoulder in despair.

"I promise you. I promise you that will not be. I will announce that there will be four victors once you have put out the fireball and her yeast-wad. I am so disappointed in Abernathy. I thought he would take the cripples place without question. I didn't imagine him for a coward. But it doesn't matter. Watching those two die along with his own two lovers will be the end of him, without me lifting a finger. " He smiles to reassure her, and kisses her nose, having found his way in this sorrow of circumstance.

She lifts her head, a bit of understanding dawning on her face and the hope he is again striding into control of the mess. She watches him, fascinated that she can see him filling this terrible Quell with new goals and even excitement. "Dear one, give me any word of your will and I will bring it to light. Tell me what joys I see play on your face."

He laughs as all he needs falls into his mind with clarity. The brilliance of his plan, the ultimate reward fills him with pride at his cunning. This has always been his strength and he knows he has been blessed with the nimble sight that he has flexed into being upon need. This is his gift, his ability to adapt any misfortune into purpose.

He giggles boyishly at her knowing faith in him. "I could not have planned it to work so smoothly, yet fate shines indeed. You, Brutus, Enobaria and Gloss will kill them all. Once District twelve is out of the picture, we can announce our hidden revelation. Wait, no, it will have to be near the end. There is the Odair matter. I have no will to lose him, but we must make sure he aligns with you and not the others. He is too close to Haymitch to trust. I will see to it he has incentive to betray his dear Haymitch. If he were to demoralize the girl, take her haughty wholesomeness, especially by force, it would destroy this obsessive admiration and replace it with scorn. If she lets her chaste lover die, then is powerless and humiliated, used by Odair, Brutus and your brother, her harlotry would be all of her they remember. A defining moment, all actions before that moment, lost in that last glowing remorse."

Cashmere shrugs. "It would not be the first time a tribute was treated to a little sample of a victor's reward. It would be most fitting, beings she was spared the dutiful victor's fate by that drunken weasel and his sappy story of innocent lovers." Her face is cruel.

"You make me so very proud," he says in rapture of her perfect understanding of his vision.

"You should insist she be put in that nightmare of a dress. Why waste a perfectly publicized voting? The little bride, off to a tantalizing final consummation. She would look ridiculous. It would kill Peeta, knowing his little virgin would never be his to take. At least not with all of his honor intact." She lets her eyes dance with merry malevolence.

"Is that look a tiny speck of your mother showing through? I always had such respect for her ability to turn wrath into art." He sighs with contentment.

Cashmere blinks, and then calms her face of pleasure, becoming calculating ice again. " I find the idea of killing her after she has found herself brutalized and humiliated, almost charitable of me? I imagine the sale of that footage would set records for decades? And what would my reward be if I give you such a valuable commodity? It would bring in revenue at a decadent level? I imagine the same could be said if her pretty loverboy were to be introduced to similar handling?"

He takes a deep breath at the image she has suggested. "Yes. It would be remarkably titillating. Especially, if Peeta could be induced to participate in her degradation. Imagine, the angelic lover, and his final act being the betrayal of all he was purported to be? Oh the joy I would have in forcing Abernathy to blame himself for not protecting her."

Cashmere smiles at the image he paints. "My brother will be pleased. Enobaria will go along. It will take a gentle hand with Brutus, but I will convince him. He fancies himself the only possible winner." She accepts the drink he offers her and sips the cocktail with relish and deep relief.

"This is fortune smiling at us with only the guise of ill luck." He lifts his glass to her and grimaces at the way it sets his throat aflame.

"I will be sorry to miss Haymitch's face as his four little protégés are taken from him. Finnick won't play with us you know. He would die before he lets Haymitch think badly of him," she says, leaning against the arm of the chair, trying to see any issues with the plan. She wanted nothing to do with Finnick. He had hurt her feelings on more than one occasion and he always hinted at her and Gloss' relationship in front of the others.

"I imagine you are correct. Still his loyalty to that heap of wretchedness he keeps in Four has served us well in the past. I will see she is picked up and brought here, during the games, and I will see to it he knows. " he plans out loud.

"Katniss will be hard to challenge. If Odair stands with her, it will be even harder. " Cashmere admits.

"There are a few surprises up my sleeve. By the day of the games her mind will be as ravished as her body will later be. There was a peacekeeper that she had corrupted. His fate as her Avox will be only the beginning. What do you think I should give her for a score? High or low?"

"Zero would be funny, but a twelve would target her for the first kill."

"It would make her more vulnerable," he says then nods at a new idea. "I will see that Mellark is targeted as well. It will distract her to have to guard him."

Cashmere agrees. She tilts her head at him. "I still hate this."

"As do I. But, I think you will find my gratitude to be most rewarding. I imagine that your popularity could lead to many things. Doors could be opened. Matrimonial doors. My wife would never be called to accept appointments, if such an arrangement would please you?" He dips his chin, waiting for his suggestion to wash her expression. No matter her words, he will know the truth before she speaks.

A genuine smile catches him off guard. Her affection is more than deference. "Lanus. Do you mean it?"

"The alignment would be acceptable. Kill the Mockingjay, my darling. Cashmere Snow has a certain ring to it, don't you think?" He brushes lint from the sleeve of his velvet blazer.

"Oh you naughty boy. Mrs. Snow approves that idea very much. " her arms slip around him tightly and he folds her in his comfort, letting her finally seep into remote fissures of his arctic heart.

The people want a wedding, and he always knows how to let his own purposes work for him rather than against him. He might even enjoy wedded bliss this time. Cashmere is cold like him. So very like him. People would be shocked if they knew of her and her brother's parentage. Shocked that he'd allowed them both to participate in the Hunger Games. Her mother had been so like Cashmere in her expression of certain appetites. Incest is said to run wild in the best families. It would guarantee any offspring would be his duplicate by at least a genetic fifteen-sixteenths factor. Children with her would be so pure blooded. That thought filled him with want.

"I love you, Daddy," she whispers shyly.

"I love you too, precious darling." He means the words this time. "Now that our objectives are settled, isn't it time you show me how much you love me?" He slips the straps from her shoulders and the dress slithers to the floor.

She pretends his actions are scandalous. "You are a very wicked Daddy."

He hums a groan from the back of his throat and purrs, "Like father, like daughter." His lips command his obedient child with insalubrious hunger.

* * *

><p>Ugh –terrible alliance, yet Snow is evil evil evil. Just made me kind of wonder what he had promised some of his rather loyal careers. I realized that nothing would stop him allowing as many winners as he wanted, suddenly announced at the end, in sort of a planned display of kindness if his favorites were all that were left. I hinted but didn't explain, she is also his grand-daughter, thus the purity of his genes would be so high in any offspring with her genetic load of .875 or 78 -Turned back with the sire leaving the offspring-.9375 or 15/16 pure. (thought it would be a little Oh my gosh about the vote in which they mention he has a grand-daughter – imagine if she had survived, it would be her third trip to the games.) I know it is terrible and twisty, but still no major leaps into lemon land –F2


	5. 5 Big Foot  Finn meets Hay 1st time

**Dance Cards:5 Big Foot **

**Author**: **Howlynn**  
><strong>Realm<strong>: _The Hunger Games_, Suzanne Collins  
><strong>Story Title<strong>: Dance Cards: Big Foot  
><strong>Summary<strong>: _We all know in theory what the victors have to do. This is a little Peek into our favorite victor's appointments. Several drabbles and bits – some will be funny, some sad, who knows, maybe both. Rated M - because sex is scarier than death to most people. _  
><strong>CharacterRelationships**: Haymitch and Finnick meeting for the first time for victor training camp. F4=language and situation.

Warning: Prostitution discussed, discussion of intended force, language, man sex discussed, all the usual stuff that I get M & M with peanuts for. Changing the rating because of non-explicit allusion to forced sex and details of Haymitch's described introduction to his new life.

I** Disclaimer:** All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

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><p>The door opens and the hard gray eyes ignore the boy and rest on the tiny old woman. A fond smile twinkles between them for a moment but this is no happy occasion, so after a two-pat friend hug, with tears and an unsteady voice, Mags gestures to her right and says, "This is my Finn."<p>

Haymitch keeps his face neutral as he nods to the boy. Sea green eyes and a face as fresh as sashimi, poor kid won't last a month. Haymitch sighs. He drops his eyes to the floor and crosses his arms. "I will do my best. I can only help the willing."

"He is a heathen with a rock a'tween his shoulders, Haymitch. But don't let him fool you, he's a good boy. The best in fact, and I humbly beg you to not give up on him the first twenty times he makes you want to kill him. Under it all, he is treasure." Her head cocks into a regretful shake as she clasps the boys arm, tells him to behave and shoves him forward.

Haymitch receives the hateful glare from the boy and can't quite keep the smirk off his face or the wink at Mags contained. "He doesn't have a chance in hell, you know?" Haymitch asks, half serious.

Mags nods and deflates a little. "I do know it. I canna live with it and do nadda ting." She steps to her right a half-shuffle and glares hard at the boy slumped into a defensive stance with his hands shoved protectively in his pockets and spiteful disgust written all over his face. "You listen for one time in your blasted life boy. I know you are thinking of being a grief to him, but he's doing you a kindness. Don't put me in his debt more than I am," she commands in a voice far more steady then her trembling hands support.

The boy shrugs but seems a little less hostile as his eyes beg his mentor to change her mind and let him go back to their room and forget this terrible idea. There is much said between them in perfect silence and finally he gives in to her with a sigh. He says softly, "Yes, Mags, I'll try."

"Tomorrow afternoon. Call if you get worried." Haymitch touches her arm in comfort.

"I worry now, I do. I canna stop." She takes a deep sigh and there are tears threatening to spill, but she sniffs them away and gruffly clears her throat before saying a hurried thanks and turning to leave.

Haymitch watches her briskly amble down the hall part of the way, and then he softly clicks the door shut and twists the deadbolt lock. He blows air out his lips and steels himself for the next few hours. He faces the boy, crossing his arms and legs and leaning up against the door to figure out how to reach out. "So, Finnick Odair. Boy with the trident. Tell me what you make of all this? Do you even want to survive it?"

The boy puffs up and eyes narrow, he hisses, "What do you care Abernathy. Just get on with it. Doesn't matter if you fuck me or they do. It's all the same to me. I'm not afraid of you or anyone else."

Haymitch frowns. "Then there won't be a damned thing I can do for you. We are done." Haymitch strides across the room and keeping his back to the boy pours himself a drink. He sips half of it and turns as if surprised to see his guest still standing there. "You can go kid. I'm not wasting my time with you."

The boy glares in frustrated confusion. "What about what you said to Mags?"

Haymitch laughs. "I meant every word of it. What did you think you were here for? Are you expecting me to hand you candy and wave a magic wand that will allow you to keep your sanity intact? If you aren't afraid of anything, then you will die. It is as simple as the law of motion. In your case, a body at rest, will be laid to rest."

"I think you are playing games. You like pretending to be some expert so you can seduce the new ones, but I have heard about things, you know. Mags thinks she is helping me. I know you're going to try to rape me if I don't cooperate. If I try to leave, you will just have the guards stop me. I am not leaving, but I am not cooperating either. Guess we will see how good of a teacher you are. I spoke to one of your former students and they told me lots of things. Hell, I didn't even know men could rape other men. You make me sick, but no matter what you do, I am not afraid of your drunk ass." Finnick stands light and ready for a fight.

Haymitch nods. "I see, suicidal are you? Think if we butt heads, maybe I will go too far? Think you and your bulging muscles can teach me a lesson? You are a cocky little bastard."

Finnick laughs. He folds his arms, showing off just how large his biceps really are. It has intimidated people in the past. "I promised Mags I would learn a lesson. Don't be so sure I can't teach one. Especially to a puffball."

Finnick is unprepared for the man to move so quickly when he goes for him. He moves to attack like lightening. Finn is young and horrendously strong. He instantly plans to drop Haymitch, putting all his power in the punch he aims at Haymitch's glowering face. He isn't sure how it is accomplished but in one smooth calm motion, Haymitch has won. Haymitch's head is not there when Finnick's punch should have landed and instead of feeling meat crunch under his fist, he felt his wrist encircled. He is yanked forward, tripped and lands painfully on his knees as a new excruciating pain is issuing from his hand all the way to his shoulder.

Haymitch has Finn's arm levered up his spine at an angle that defies all Finn's strength. His knees are ground into the floor by the weight of Abernathy resting his own on top and pinning him in place. He hears the man chuckle again with amusement as Finnick tries to use his one free hand to do any damage possible. That hand is soon captured with a little struggle and a second or two of grunting in exertion.

Haymitch says nothing but transfers the painful control of Finnick's arms to one hand and slips his other hand around the boy's waist, stopping at the front of his pants and without hurry or fumble, undoes the belt, button and zipper. Finnick can do nothing to stop the sensation of terror as his pants slide over his hips with little resistance. His underthings are shoved down without ceremony.

He can't fight the pressure and pain of his arms slowly being wrenched higher. Haymitch forces Finnick forward and he tries to resist but finally bends forward, torso resting on the couch and eyes wide now in pure terror looking at the red nubby fabric and shaking in disgusted hatred. He hears Abernathy undo his own zipper and it sends him into useless panic. This is it. He screams in hopeless shock as he feels the invader press painfully against him.

Haymitch smiles as he speaks, it can be heard in his tone. "Scream all you want. The floor is empty. Nobody will hear you. They are going to like you boy. They love screamers. Lesson one. The more you scream, the more they will hurt you. Hurting you makes it better for them and once you give them your fear and terror, they will hurt you until you die. Some of them won't even stop then."

"Then get on with it! Sick bastard!" Finn huffs bleakly. He is hyperventilating in pure fright while trying to keep his bravado.

Haymitch leans into Finnick. "Don't be a fool boy. Do you have any idea how much I can hurt your little virgin ass?" He forces himself just past the door and Finnick finally gives in to the despair and pain and screams. Haymitch speaks right in Finnick's ear, his voice is smooth and yet there is contempt and something soothing mixed in the words. "I can rip you apart and believe me, you will die from it if you are too proud or closed minded to hear me out. I don't give a damned about you and I don't much like men, no matter what you have heard to the contrary. I owe Mags. So, rookie, I don't want to fuck you. I can. I will if that's what it takes. I want to keep you alive. Are we on the same boat now?"

Finn is trembling all over and the more he fights the more agony this gives him. Haymitch holds force, keeping the boy immobile and not giving him one indication that his little cramping derriere is about to wrench Haymitch in half.

Finally Finnick nods. He swallows hard, nearly on the edge of vomiting.

Haymitch's voice instantly becomes kindness. "Good. Now relax yourself for me."

Finnick nods, closing his eyes expecting to be forced to accommodate the rest of this act to its eventual finish. He concentrates, forcing his body to do his will instead of his natural instinct. He braces himself for raw agony.

"That's a good boy." Haymitch gently removes himself and as Finnick's deep breaths turn into sobs of relief, Haymitch relaxes his pressure on the young victor's shoulders, releases him fully and zips himself back into his pants. He stands up, sighs in pity and sits next to Finnick's unmoving spiritless form. The boy looks desolate and empty from his terrible failing to fight Haymitch to the death as he'd intended. He painfully pulls his arms around his head and he wails in dejection.

Haymitch comforts him, joins him on the floor and wraps his arms around Finnick soothing his broken little boy dreams and his shattered manly ego. This shit will eat this boy alive.

"It is up to you Finnick Odair. I won't paint this as roses and riches. You will detest those things soon enough. But I can show you how to survive it, if you are willing to. Even if you master all I will have to teach you, there are going to be days you will thank me, but the ones you hate my guts for it will probably outnumber them. I know who you talked to, and he probably thought he was saving you. I am sure he's painted me to be a monster. Maybe I am a monster, because unless you have a reason to stay, I can't say a short career is not better." Haymitch pauses and stretches backward. He reaches behind the couch and grabs an expensive decanter. He tosses the top noisily back on the tray and lifts the crystal to his lips and chugs the contents.

He settles back next to Finnick and bumps the boys elbow with the decapitated liquor bottle. Finn sits up a little, struggling to put his cloths back in order, tears still washing his cheeks. He sits cross-legged and accepts the bottle, peeking around the cut glass at this man who he doesn't understand.

Haymitch continues to talk as Finn sips the horrible liquid, hating the taste but liking the burn. "I don't mean to be a monster. I hate this too. You're what fifteen? The sweet sixteen party is next month, and there are many plans for you I am afraid. You have so little time and I hate stealing it from you. But I can make it hurt less, both inside your heart and physically if you let me. I can't make it pain free, just survivable." Haymitch studies the boy. He is going to die horribly if he's not a damned fast learner.

"Why didn't you…" Finnick blushes and rubs his nose with his fist, "finish? I mean you were, you know. You wanted to rape me but you didn't. Not all the way."

"I didn't want to at all. I had to show you I could take your choice away, who the boss is so to speak. Only then could I give it back to you in a way that you could really grasp." Haymitch explains.

"But, the thought of it made you hard. You wanted to and could have. Why not just…" Finn can't say the words he needs to get out, but shrugs and looks at his hands.

"I find the rape of my students, doesn't make them score very high on the final exams. It doesn't do much for the trust issue either. If we decide to enter into this arrangement, I must have your complete trust and for the more advanced sections, you must have mine. If I don't trust you, I damned sure won't let you practice on me." Haymitch grins at Finnick's confusion.

"Practice what?" he blurts out.

Haymitch snorts in mirth. He smiles, but his eyebrows are twisting with mocking sarcasm. "My classes don't include a syllabus, sweetheart."

"But you will let me leave if I don't want your classes?"

"No. I am not letting you leave. Even if you tell me no this instant. That poor old woman loves you and I agreed to try to help you. So even if you don't want to be here. For her sanity, we are going to pretend. I will say this. I won't take a step with you that you are not prepared for and I won't tell you a single lie. No pretty words to ease your mind and no subjects are off limits while you have my time. Don't trust a damned word I say outside these doors, but here tonight, you can ask me anything and I will be honest to the point of brutality. It will be the only brutal offering from me you know, provided you don't get a second wind and attack me again." Haymitch doesn't say anymore.

Finn sits silently, thinking and weighing his choices. The bottle is passed randomly back and forth. The warmth in his stomach radiates to the tips of his fingers and his worries of being forced to have sex with men do not disappear, but they begin to settle in his mind a little. His voice sounds loud and stronger when he asks, "You said you don't like men much. If that is true, how did you get prepared to bend me over and have a loaded torpedo?"

Haymitch points at his head. "Big brain." He points at his crotch and explains, "Little brain. The big one is in control, no matter how much the little one protests. It takes a bit of practice, but being a whore can be a very complex business for a man physically. For the girls it is all mostly mental. It shatters them more. Physically they can accommodate most situations without much concentration. That is an advantage we don't have. Men are expected to be ready, jump through hoops and respond to things that truthfully create the exact opposite condition from the one we must produce."

"Now which one is which again?" Finnick actually makes a small jest. "You teach this class to the girls too? You like women then?" Finn asks.

Haymitch shakes his head. "I did once. I liked a lot of things once. Now I pretty much don't give a damned. There are a few ladies who still light my fire a bit. I even have a few patrons whose company I enjoy. They are more lonely and sad than I am. There can be a little pleasure here and there even in this world of soul burning madness. Those small gifts are but sparks of hope in the ashes boy. There is no love of any kind in the world you walk now. The sooner you put it out of your mind, the better it will be for you. They will use you, but they will never love you. Nobody else will either. You're lucky though. You have Mags and nothing will ever break the bond you have there. It is not the same as falling in love, but it is safer and more real, so cherish it."

Finnick tilts his head and meets Haymitch's eyes. "Who helped you?"

The scowl deepens on the older victor's face and he pulls hard on the near empty bottle. He stands and glares at Finnick. "Not a fucking soul. I was bad news. Even victors shunned me. Some still do."

"Then how did you survive it?"

"Bad luck and misplaced intervention. Mostly." Haymitch picks up another bottle and this time slings the gorgeous cut glass bulb across the room with such force it shatters. He smiles at his satisfying destruction.

"You were already sixteen when you won. I guess they didn't have a party for you." Finn looks down again fighting tears.

"Oh they had a party for me alright. I didn't survive the evening. The sons of bitchs had to restart my heart and while I was dead to the world they enhanced me to this ridiculous proportion." He gestures to his crotch.

Finnick feels the blood drain from his face. He flicks his eyes quickly down and back to the face. "I wondered. Never saw anything like that. Not on a human anyway."

Haymitch makes a noise at the back of his throat. "They are out of fashion now. But, there are videos. They liked making young girls accommodate me. I don't remember making them. I was chemically inspired without consent. I could barely show my face around twelve when they were popular. It was a long time ago, but those who remember seeing them have one of two reactions. They detest me or they buy me."

"Please. I can see you don't want to talk about it. But what did they do to you? Nobody will tell me. I am afraid." Finn whispers the last part, ashamed to admit he can't eat a bite of food worrying.

Haymitch rubs his eyes as if his head is throbbing. He looks at Finnick and shakes his head. "I told you I would be honest. I swear to you boy, if you ever tell a soul, I will finish what I started over there as I slit your throat in a way that will give you many hours of silent agony before death. Before you think to share my personal shames with the class, have Mags scrounge up a couple of those movies. Chemicals or not, you should see what I am capable of with proper motivation. Do you understand what I am telling you?"

"I understand. I am very good at keeping secrets." Finn tilts his head, really interested for the first time.

Haymitch flops back on the couch. He sighs several times, then as if her were reading a script, he speaks in a voice that could have issued from a tomb and been less chilling. "I was seventeen by the time I became compliant. My party was flagged as a slave auction. I was dressed as a Gladiator in chains and they bid on the various tickets to punish me for my crimes. The flogging post was very popular. The branding was the most expensive." Haymitch looks down at Finnick and closes his eyes. He continues in the same dead voice.

" My first experience with a man was on stage that night. He pounded that small virginity out of me and I begged and blubbered like a child for help. They cheered. I took forty lashes, which left stinging bloody welts. Not peacekeeper lashes mind you, but I was still covered in blood. The audience threw salt at me and laughed. They gave me a shot that made my relatively normal boy parts unable to deflate. I was chained to a bed. The females began. My voice gave out long before the skin began to scour off. They stood me up, put me in stocks and the men began." The gray eyes open again as he swallows more courage.

"I'm sorry. You don't have to tell me any more if you don't want to." Finnick is shocked to find he feels bad for this guy who he'd hated moments ago. He has no idea how anyone could live after being treated like that.

Haymitch smiles and says, "Not much left for me to tell. When I lost consciousness, it didn't stop the fun activities. I nearly choked to death, hanging in the stocks before they realized I was no longer participating. I am told there was some sort of contraption they put me in. They didn't even notice until I stopped breathing. I bled to death. There was a doctor there who finally stopped them and transported me to the hospital. They didn't even know how long my heart had been still. When I awoke, I could barely walk. Even if I had been brain dead, they intended to make use of the investment made in male enhancement. Makes you all warm and fussy inside for me doesn't it boy?"

Finn swallows hard and looks at him, unable to think of anything to say except for one thing. "Will," he clears his throat, "Will they do that to me? Is that…"

"Don't look so sick boy. No, it won't be as horrible, but it won't be any fun for you, I can assure you on that. Remember, I was a bad boy. You have two choices. Overdose at the party or make them adore you. You know a blatant suicide will kill your family. It is a shady area to accomplish it at a party, but I see your eyes. I will even help you with that, if you require it." Haymitch smiles a little and there is softness in his face now.

"Why would you do that? If you get caught?" Finnick's attention is locked on Haymitch. It was exactly what he was thinking.

Haymitch leans forward and looks like a sly conspirator. "They will what? What else can they really accomplish with me, boy? Half of me, isn't even human anymore."

"I think more of you is still human than you think. I think maybe I should…" Finn runs his hands through his hair nervously. "Maybe do like Mags says. Maybe try it your way. If you will hold the other thing you said, until I need it, until I can't stand it anymore. If you promise me that. I will try, for now. No guarantees or anything, but I could give it a shot and…"

Haymitch smiles and seriously nods his promise. There it is. Haymitch chuckles a little, and sighs in relief. The boy was going to be just fine. He only needed a way out, to find his way through the maze. Having a choice is sometimes all it takes to make the right one. "And if it is too much, I help you check out of hotel happy time."

"So where do we start. Are you going to fuck me now?' Finnick asks boldly and with just the tiniest bit of flirt in his eyes.

Haymitch walks to a closet and pulls out a large green billboard. He begins scratching the surface with a white stick leaving lines. "We begin with female anatomy and pleasure process. And no. I don't fuck you, until you seduce me," Haymitch says with offhanded charm and a challenge dancing in his deep gray eyes.

"Not much of a challenge really. It isn't like you're blind." Finnick says with cool confidence.

Haymitch bats his eyelashes. "You're far from chopped hash, but you're no Haymitch Abernathy. To get another sample of this, you're going to have to work a lot harder than you are used to. I may be a whore, but I am no cheap slut and I do have standards."

Finnick bursts out laughing. He crosses his arms, showing off his biceps again, and then drops his voice to a low seductive purr, much too old for the face it issues from. "Look out top gun. You may have met your replacement and the one who breaks your heart for good."

Haymitch stops his hideous sketching for a moment and looks at the younger man. He smirks then says, "Sure I have, sweetheart. You are a little wet behind the ears to run with the big dogs, but I suppose you will grow into those feet of yours eventually. Hope you can keep them out of your mouth long enough to stay alive."

"So, what exactly is that repulsive thing supposed to be, Haymitch?" Finnick squints at the drawing.

Haymitch rolls his eyes and speaks as if talking to a morphling addict, "It's a girl, dumb ass."

Finnick tilts his head sideways and squints again. "Dude, if that is how you see them, it's no wonder you don't like them much." He grabs the chalk out of Haymitch's fingers and begins showing him the proper form of girl outlines.

Haymitch mumbles from behind him. "Mighty big feet, Finnick Odair. Mighty big."

The next afternoon, Finnick answers the door to Mags. Haymitch stands behind the boy with a pleasant smirk. She glances back and forth between the men, trying to find out how things have gone.

Finnick shuffles his bare toe across the carpet nervously. "If you don't mind, I think I will be staying here for a while."

"That would be just fine Finn-O. It will give you time to play with your new little friend," she says as if crossing into senility. Finn nods, knowing she meant what she meant and not what she said, just like always.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXx

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><p>This one ran a little long, but it really just took off and I let it run. Hope you like it.<p> 


	6. 6 The Finnick Code

**Dance Cards:6 The Odair Code**

**Author**: **Howlynn**  
><strong>Realm<strong>: _The Hunger Games_, Suzanne Collins  
><strong>Story Title<strong>: Dance Cards:  
><strong>Summary<strong>: _We all know in theory what the victors have to do. This is a little Peek into our favorite victor's appointments. Several drabbles and bits – some will be funny, some sad, who knows, maybe both. Rated M - because sex is scarier than death to most people. _  
><strong>CharacterRelationships**: Quick drabble about Finnick - what he says and what he means.

I** Disclaimer:** All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

* * *

><p>"Lovey?" Finnick whispered to the drunken woman. (bitch)<p>

"Hi, baby?" she gurgles trying to kiss him.

"Lovey girl, you are going to be late for your dinner." (fucking bitch, get out)

"Wha tie izzit. We can still ha some fun, and…." She grabs his cock.

"No time, I have another appointment. I let you sleep as long as I could, you sleep like an angel. I brought you coffee." (no chance, the next bitch is on her way. I let you use up all the time I could so I didn't have to touch you anymore. You snore, drool and smell funny. Go away.)

"I had so much fun. Maybe you can sneak me in, you're always booked." She is rambling around trying to dress.

"I will have to see what I can do. They keep me on a pretty tight schedule." (No, I will recommend your fee be tripled)

"I love you…hiccup…belch. Finnick. Do you love me?"

"Of course I do, pet." (I'd love you to get away from me you obnoxious mutt.)

"No, I mean I really. Love you." She stumbles and breaks one of her spikey heels.

"You're so sweet." (I will really love you if you wait until you get into the hallway to earp. Gogogogog!)

"Bye, my lovey!" Finnick slams the door and takes a deep breath. (Kiss my ass dragon breath. Now you can puke.)

The phone rings. Finnick glares at it. Phone calls are never good. "Good evening, you are speaking to Finnick Odair, may I be of assistance to you?" (Fuck off, just so you know whose cock you should bow to, are you someone I can order killed?)

"This is Appointment clearance, your next appointment has lost favor and we have been unable to replace it so please rest for your next day's activities."

"I see. I am prepped and awaiting, but I appreciate you letting me know." (Holy crap a night off and you can't say a word – Be sure to pay me my fee beings I was here. Hot damned Hot damned)

"It is an unfortunate turn of events that being the prep team are double scheduled for tomorrow that you should also plan to be an hour late for the party. We determined that you being late would simply be viewed as being in high demand, rather than a personal insult."

"I have no problem being flexible in this matter."( Aaaaaaaaaa veeeeeeeeaaaaaeee mmmmaaaaaa rheeeeeeeeeeee eeeeeee aaaaaaaaaaa)

He hangs up, does a happy dance, flops on the bed in happiness and realizes he's bored.

He calls his friends. Everyone is busy. He orders room service and stuffs himself. He takes a hot bath and lets his hair dry in tangles. He doesn't know what else to do with himself. He picks up the phone.

"Hi Mags, it's me." (I want to come home)

"No everything is fine. Great really, I just had some time off and thought I would check in." (They won't let me die yet. I am so alone. I miss you and Annie more than I can explain.)

"Sure, I guess I can. I am her mentor." (Sly Mags, bless you)

"I hear you have been being naughty and disagreeable to Mags." (I love you.)

"No. You will be kind to her. She takes care of you and you need to show her some appreciation. (I would give anything to be with you this moment.)

"I do not care if she fed you a poor little clam. You can't live on seaweed." (Please stay healthy darling. I can't live if you starve yourself to death.)

"No. Annie they are treating me fine." (I don't mind this to keep you alive my love.)

"I look for them every night." (There are no stars here Annie. They can't shine without your eyes.)

"Soon. I will be home soon." (It will never be soon enough or long enough or enough.)

"Me too." (I love you, love you, love you….)

"Tell me about your day." (Let me be home with you for a few minutes)

Hours later the still open line was cradled by two victors who slept unruffled thousands of miles apart. They dreamed together.


	7. 7 Very Freaky Girl Effitch

**Dance Cards:7 Very Freaky Girl**

**Author**: **Howlynn**  
><strong>Realm<strong>: _The Hunger Games_, Suzanne Collins  
><strong>Story Title<strong>: Dance Cards: Very Freaky Girl  
><strong>Summary<strong>: _We all know in theory what the victors have to do. This is a little Peek into our favorite victor's appointments. Several drabbles and bits – some will be funny, some sad, who knows, maybe both. Rated M - because sex is scarier than death to most people. _  
><strong>CharacterRelationships**: Warning F5 by request – nothing but thumping and humping. CarolinaPhoenix requested Effie/ Haymitch getting some freak on at an appointment. Title comes from Gucci Mane – I adored him long before he got really popular.

I** Disclaimer:** All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

* * *

><p>She's a very freaky girl, gets it from her mama. First you get her name, then you get her number, then you get some (I like the real version better) in the front seat of the hummer…<p>

Effie greets her guest with a little kiss and a Taser. Haymitch buckles to the floor, completely at a loss and grunts in agony. He felt himself lifted and being drug to the bedroom as every muscle betrayed him by feeling locked and turned to stone. His arms were tied first then his feet. He began to recover just as she removed her housecoat revealing stockings, garters, spiked heels on thigh high shiny boots and a corset all in shocking chartreuse pink to match her hair. She has a huge pair of scissors in her hand and the sharp blades glimmer as she snips away at his garments. Haymitch smiles. Aggrenon, his stylist, will be livid.

"Oh, Effie. My kinky little girl." Haymitch groaned in amused appreciation.

She stands over him on the bed, scraping the sharp heel down his abdomen and pressing it to his groin. Her face wears a cold smile and she hops from the bed to the floor. "Shut up. You will not speak. And you will address me as Mistress Eff, when I require you to speak. You have been a very naughty boy, Haymitch. You missed our half-time and now you are going to have to make up for it. A hundred and five fever is no excuse!" She began laying out her instruments. Haymitch's eyes grew wide.

"Now, if you are very good tonight, there may be reward. Bad behavior leads to my displeasure. You don't deserve to see my pretty outfit. I am putting this blindfold on you. If you follow all my instructions to the letter, I will let you see me again. Do you understand?"

"I think I get the gist of it, sweetheart." He says with a smirk, giving her the opportunity to discipline him a little. The blindfold came down immediately; he had not expected the nipple clamps. That is less fun. He grunts in discomfort.

"Naughty. Naughty, naughty boy!" she says. He can hear the smile in her voice.

She straddles him and kisses him deeply. He is enjoying the playful way she is heating him. He wasn't afraid. This was Effie after all. He settled in for the fun. "You smell delicious, Mistress Eff," he says.

Something was quickly shoved in his mouth. "You will not speak to your mistress, handsome little slave." From the taste and texture, he was pretty sure he had a set of brilliant pink panties in his mouth. He felt himself half raise in expectation.

That was when the soul numbing torture began. Effie Trinket knew he was ticklish and she did it until tears ran down his temples. The nipple clamps are removed and ice causes him to lurch and groan. She slithered the ice all over his abdomen and giggles as he cringes. He is helpless to her, unable to see where the ice will attack next. He felt her leave the bed and he turned his head to the sound of the device. Soon she is moaning.

"MMmmphfh, goooommmmm ooooon migsiss" he said through the gag. She took it out. "Come on Mistress Eff, you at least have to let me see that!" his cock is standing high at the thoughts of what she must be doing.

"Beg slave. What is it you want to see?" her voice is sultry in his ears.

"I want to watch you pleasure yourself, mistress Eff. Please, please my sweet goddess." He pleads as if in agony.

She straddles his face. "Maybe, if you earn it."

Haymitch's nose detects her exact bouquet and his tongue extends to her wet dessert. He gives her as much perfection as he can, because it is Effie. He knows he has done well when she nearly drowns him. She removes his blindfold and grins, little stars twinkling in her eyes for him.

She reaches down and rubs his hard rod that had been thus far completely ignored. He watches her take an entire can of whipping cream and engulf it with cool whipping. His warmth causes the substance to melt and slither down his balls and dribble between his ass cheeks. Next came a chocolate syrup, then sprinkles, then salty nuts and finally a cherry was placed on top and he was told to "balance it."

The first quiver sent the cherry tumbling away. More whipped cream and another cherry. This process happened seven times before Haymitch, in frustration, demands, "Crap on a coal pile, are you going to eat it or fuck it woman?"

"Both." She smiles. Her head bends to her messy dessert disaster and she takes her sweet ass time about licking every inch clean. Haymitch is being consumed with want. She looked so adorable in her shiny pink boots and her little intimate piercings flashed the light as she gave him a lovely untouchable view of her rose and petals.

Still she licks and when she finally faces him and envelops him with her mouth, every muscle in his body stresses as he bursts. She keeps her beautiful eyes on his face as she triumphantly makes him shudder violently and moans as she consumes him. He lay back on the bed, exhausted from the shattering pleasure she'd brought him. His feet are released and he bends his legs stiffly. His arms feel detached because he'd pulled so hard in his bliss. She helps him up and takes off her things, letting her shoulder length raven locks fall free. She led him to the shower and he let her pamper him. She scrubs his back dreamily and nips all the clean skin suggestively. He returns the favor, such love in his eyes it is heartbreaking.

"How long has it been my big strong fearless one?" Effie asks softly.

Haymitch sighs and shakes his head, loving the way she looks so pretty out of pink. "Since you, sweetheart."

"What about the others? The appointments? Finn and Jojo don't count." She looks at him coy and bashful, wanting to be special to him, if just for a moment.

"Not like this. Effie you make me feel." His face struggles for a word. "Normal."

"Oh, my poor baby," Effie says, eyes sparkling with tears. He could not have given her a higher compliment.

"Tonight, there is nothing poor about me." He smirks and impales her in the mist.

Her face crumples in delightful concentration as she focuses on the sensation of him inside her, memorizing each detail for the long lonely nights ahead. The shower echoes the madness of lovers, not the sounds of a mistress and a whore.

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><p>Ok there you are. Just smexy trash - lol.<p> 


	8. 8 Hot Rocks HaynnickF5 slashy

**Dance Cards:8 Hot Rocks**

**Author**: **Howlynn**  
><strong>Realm<strong>: _The Hunger Games_, Suzanne Collins  
><strong>Story Title<strong>: Dance Cards: Hot Rocks  
><strong>Summary<strong>: _We all know in theory what the victors have to do. This is a little Peek into our favorite victor's appointments. Several drabbles and bits – some will be funny, some sad, who knows, maybe both. Rated M - because sex is scarier than death to most people. _  
><strong>CharacterRelationships**: Warning F5 by request – nothing but thumping and humping. Slash by request Webgirl9m9nn! Warning X-treme: mega man love and F-bombs other than just the language. Make up sex is best. ( For more back story, go to Haymitch the Horrible, listed under my stories.)

I** Disclaimer:** All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

* * *

><p>"Hello, Guppy."<p>

"Hot Rocks? To what miracle do I owe this honor?" Finn is being pissy, but he leaves the door open and strolls into his pool room. The water casts pale purple and gold shadows on the white ceiling. This is Odair's newest lair and it looks like a stylist earped purple and gold crap everywhere interspersed with idiotically colored animal skins. The pool does look inviting.

"Can the crap, Fish Boy. You aren't really mad at me, are you?" Haymitch Abernathy mentor of Loserville and renowned drunk stands slouched in the entry.

Finn glares at him. "You saved me. I will fucking never forgive you for it. You promised me. Hell, you started it all."

"Sweetheart, please. I never meant to hurt you." The flinty eyes are not so full of stubborn right now. They plead for forgiveness. He follows Finn into the large room that smells of brine and heated pool chemicals.

Finn never thought he could hate this man before him. He was so damned beautiful and strong when they had met. The last few years had not been so kind to the only victor of district twelve still hanging around. His boots were still on but he wasn't going anywhere. His jokes had taken a full gator into the cruel water this time and Finn stood there wondering if he would be pulling on the same stiff shoes soon himself.

"You know why I do this. You know I don't get to be a moody ass-hole like you. I take it. I take it and take it and take it for her. You're too stupid to quit, but I face the next twenty years maybe more. You disappear into a bottle and while you are hibernating in Booneville like a damned pickled cadaver, I am used day in and day out. For her. "

"I will do anything to make it up to you." Haymitch's voice is cracking and his face is a dreadful scowl.

"It wasn't enough they called me the playboy of Panem. Love 'em and leave 'em Finnick Odair? Maggots on mackerel, Annie saw it. How could you? I came this fucking close to losing her forever because you and your dildo-limbed drinking buddy, thought it would be funny." Finnick screamed the last five words.

"I know it went too far. It got out of hand. Chaff wouldn't hurt you or her for the world. Me either. You have to know that, Finn. After everything, please, you have to know that much." Haymitch's hands are extended palms up toward the younger man in a gesture of contrition.

"Do you know what you put me through? Eighteen in one day, as Avoxy as corpses, spent sixteen hours fucking me thanks to you. There were almost as many the next day and the next and the next. Three weeks Haymitch. You saw me. You saw me and you did that to me, all for you bloody entertainment. I know I have pulled some good ones on you, but nothing like that. You win, you pointless son of a bitch. Ha. Ha. You fucking win." Finn turns from him as if in dismissal, but he doesn't want him to know how deeply hurt he is. He won't let Hay see him like a blubbering sixteen year old boy.

"Finn. It ranks number three on my list of stupidest things I have ever done. Not saving you? Are you insane. I don't give a mutt's nut if you forgive me for that one. Your charming four and a half foot tall mentor would have filleted me if I hadn't saved you. But I never ever thought it would land all the way in Annie's lap. I had no idea she would see it." Haymitch reasons carefully.

"Nobody to stop her. You knew Mag's was here." Finnick Odair stands at the window, not realizing his tears are reflected in the glass, sliding down clown colored buildings washed in the brilliant sorrow of the Capitol.

"I didn't think." Haymitch doesn't approach. If his shoulders could sag any more, they do. The boy's girl had left on a pretty afternoon to go swimming. A storm broke and she washed up on shore twenty miles from town just barely alive. She was gone for three days and the searching was slow because she was presumed dead. Nobody wanted to be the one to tell him she was gone. Nobody wanted to explain to Finnick Odair, her mentor, how someone had let crazy Annie see the games and the gossip and then just let her go swimming alone.

"And then, when I could get no word. When I could take no more, and I mixed the inhalants, and I was right fucking there at peace, you cowboy in and fucking save me. How dare you. How the hell did you even find me?"

"Pure insanity? Luck?" Haymitch remembers the terrible phone call just after his tributes died. Finnick confessing that Haymitch was the one person he wanted to talk to before he died, the only one he could say goodbye to, the one he wanted to find his body so it wouldn't be ugly for the Capitol fiasco sure to follow. Haymitch had made an educated guess. If he'd waited for Finn's courier, he would have found nothing but a cadaver, still warm with the last fire of a broken heart. Finn's heart was stopping as he held him, panicking Haymitch beyond breath that the kid dying in his arms would make his own heart weigh too much for him to ever stop being completely drunk. It would cut years off his self-imposed sentence of liver failure, but if he could keep meeting his plans requirements or if he just blew his brains out one night would have been a flip of a coin. Once long ago he'd promised the boy anything to keep his bratty little ass alive, now he betrayed him to do it.

"Bad luck. The worst luck, in fact. They will watch me like a jabberjay now."

"But Annie was found? She would have been devastated. You don't mean that." Haymitch approaches him, standing behind Finn and looking at the monstrous colors of the night. "Tommyknockers teeth, I hate this place."

"Yeah. Bet you do. You spend what, six weeks here every year? I only get to go home for that. Takes me a week to quit puking my guts out and then the next week shitting myself knowing I have to come back. I see her three times a year Haymitch. And it is still worth it. If I lose her, nothing could keep me here for five minutes. I envy you. Even if you are a dumb fuck and keep breathing," Finn says turning toward Haymitch.

"Will we be coming to the end of the 'Poor Finnick' song any time soon, sweetheart? I may need a drink before you hit the high notes." Haymitch has come to the conclusion of his tolerant apology. The kid knows nothing about his life and what it takes for him to hate them powerfully enough to have a reason to get up every day. He will end that bastard, Snow, someday. It's all he survives to see. Every trip to this city has one purpose. One tiny puzzle piece at a time, he will find the big picture. He will end this shit or die trying.

Finn couldn't control his anger any longer. As the rage at it all fills him, Abernathy is a perfect target as he strolls toward his dear liquor. Finn lifts a tall fluted vase and launches it in a perfect arching loft. The release felt so satisfying and even though it wasn't a trident, for a second Finnick felt alive and powerful pride at his skill. The vase glanced off Abernathy's hard skull and shattered on the tile. Haymitch reached up and held his head, turning in anger and face filled with wrath.

Finnick grinned at him. "Oops. It slipped."

Haymitch does a creepy little trick Finn has seen him perform before. The gray eyes open wide and the irises disappear, leaving observers staring at blank white eyes that look magnificently freaky. Haymitch does a back dive into the deep end clothing and all.

Finn raises an eyebrow. "Didn't even know you could swim, Hot Rocks."

He crosses his arms and waits for Haymitch to surface and curse him out. He did know the pool was over his head on this end, didn't he? Finnick casually walks to the edge and peeks over the side. Haymitch's face glows up at him in peaceful astonishment from ten foot below. His arms are bent and relaxed at shoulder height and his coat floats up behind him like a split-sail. Finn sees the reflexive inhalation, the jaw opening wide unable to contain the need to suck pure death into the lungs.

"Haymitch!" he shrieks as he plunges without more than a ripple into the deep and grabs his friend by the hair. He pushes off the bottom and with the instinct that comes with years of lifeguard courses and practice he begins the necessary steps before he even has him out of the water. Finn floats Haymitch to the shallow end and is still walking him to the edge when he shudders, begins thrashing about and creates a mess in Finn's sparkling pride and joy.

Haymitch chokes and wretches and croaks more, wheezing the liquid from his lungs by the cup full and the spoonful. His throat feels like someone used his face to shove a rusty mace down his gullet. Raspy and full of air, Haymitch gripes, "You suck at murder."

"You suck at swimming." Finn says back gently.

"That's because I don't have the first clue how. I honestly didn't think you would come." Haymitch looks at the boy, really asking why he did.

Finn draws his eyebrows down and his mouth lifts on one side, pulled into deliberation rather than a smile. "Payback ass-hole."

"I suppose I deserve it. I wish you hadn't bothered." Haymitch goes through another coughing fit. This one ends with another trail of sticky debris trailing them in the water.

Finn checks Haymitch's pulse, pupils and lung sounds as Haymitch recovers, sitting leaned over on the stairs making gross noises that involve lots of spitting and hacking. "Let's get you in some dry cloths." Finn helps Haymitch to his feet. "And maybe within a few feet of a damned toothbrush." He adds, offended by the vomit breath.

"Fuck you, Odair." Haymitch grumbles in exasperation. He was lucky to be breathing at all, who cares if it was a bit Avoxy at the moment.

"That is my intention you big jerk. Make-up-sex has always been your specialty."

Haymitch stops and stares into Finn's immense green eyes. "Most people seem to be of a slightly different expectation of me. Ever thought about why that is, sweetheart? Why do you think they call me The Marquis?"

Finn chews his bottom lip and grins. "I thought it was a nickname for the nether creature you cart around in your pants."

"You have a one track mind, fish boy." Haymitch shakes his head and leans on the younger man. "Once you get me naked, you're not going to try to dress me in any of your ludicrous entertainer swag are you?"

"Sorry Beefcake, that ship crashed in the shoals. The beef has drifted to the cake a bit and you couldn't pull it off like I do. Not for a while now, chubby." Finnick winks at him in sympathy, but his eyes direct attention at the tiny bit of pudgy that has crept around Haymitch's middle.

Haymitch sighs and smirks. "I like cake. The baker back in District 12 makes me a rum spice thing that is a dream. His boy decorates the damned thing up and they let it sit in the window for a week or two on display. It gets all dry and hard, then he cuts a hole in it and drains a whole bottle of Ripper's good rum into it for me and by the time I cut it open it has become a sugary pudding of orgasmic delight." Haymitch smacks his lips thinking of his favorite treat.

Finnick cocks his head at Haymitch with a smear of disbelief. "That explains the pudding on your ass Haymitch. You ought to get a little exercise now and again. Maybe I should take a look at your head. That was just too easy." Haymitch always had better comebacks then a story about cake.

Haymitch smiles with a wide delicious jape to his expression. "You never could be mad at me long."

Finn drops his eyes and blushes as he whispers, "Yeah, I suck at grudges too." Haymitch leans in to kiss Finnick and Finn makes a face and holds up a hand. "Dude, toothbrush! Seriously, it will be three days before I can use my damned pool. That was epic chunckage!"

Haymitch snorts his nose and looks on the counter of the gaudy bathroom. "I don't have a toothbrush here in your purple passion palace."

Finn pushes a button and a rack of devices and heads pop out from the wall. "Take your choice, Hot Rocks. Just pick your little nesty spot and toss you stuff in."

"I don't nest." Haymitch grumbles digging through the complicated designs and selecting one that looks less problematical.

"The hell you don't. This is my ninth condo and you have a drawer at every one." Finn is out the door.

Haymitch wiggles out of his wet things and leaves them in a pile. He stands naked in the mirror turning to see if his ass was getting broad like Finn accuses. "Yeah? Well, you took over three closets at my place. You want to talk nesting, let's be honest, hmmm? You have more shoes at my apartment than Johanna Mason owns!" he puts the device in his mouth and nearly gags at the minty burn.

Finn returns to the bath and says with defensive tone, "Well that's not hard to explain. She's so hard on her little spiky heels and she refuses to wear them when the Victor Services extracts them from her clients. She's always had issues with pooh!"

Haymitch blows foamy froth all over the mirror at this image, unable to control his laughter. He sees the look of chagrin on Finn's face and uselessly grabs a decorative guest towel, slopping the mess around into smears on every once pristine surface. Finn plops a fluffy towel down, sighs and exits again mumbling something about his cleaning service troubles.

Haymitch emerges from the bathroom, showered, scented and perfectly groomed. He wears the towel only and after receiving Finns purr of approval joins him on the silly round bed. "Does it have to spin? I feel like a cake top."

"Quit obsessing about cake and put that mouth of yours to a more admirable use." Finn says thrusting his hips suggestively.

Haymitch lays his hand on Finnick's stomach and lets his fingers walk toward the offered target. "Don't I even get a kiss first?"

Finn beams and he rolls from his back to his side facing Haymitch and props his head on his fist, stopping an inch from Hay's lips and gazing in his eyes waiting for him to meet him. Haymitch slips his hand around Finnick's cheek to the back of his head and pulls the familiar sweet lips to him, hunger and adoration mixed with love and relief that everything is back to normal between them. Haymitch claims Finnick and their tongues fight and dance heated victor battle causing breath to quicken and swords to spark with combat and craving.

They know each other and it is a comfortable slow expertise between them that allows them to find a deep pleasure in each other, though this activity was once forced upon them. Both challenge the other to give the most and it has become a small shelter of the heart for each of them. When alone, they calm the rage and evil that exists in the life they know and for a moment they each will give and take strength, from the unexpected beauty they have both had to hide away from most of the world. Once they only wanted each other but now they need the soul of the other to exist. It is not the love of darlings between them or as simple as lust.

It is respect, adoration, and joy tied securely with despair, solace and isolation. The pleasure they take in the textures of the others body is undeniable, but more passes between them then body fluids and naughty words. They always hated parting, but they always parted renewed.

Haymitch rolls on top of Finn and trails kisses and playful nips on his perfectly hard nipples and on down. Finn's legs fall apart as Haymitch brings his lips to the beautiful smooth erection that awaits his attention. He takes the plucked delicate stones in his mouth first then moves up to the shaft letting his throat relax so he can claim it all. Finnick nods and groans his approval. Haymitch is always so gentle with him, it drives him wild. He is quickly lost in rhythm as his fingers grasp at the soft curls. He avoids the lump on the back of the head he'd put there with the vase. He begins to whimper as Haymitch presses his finger into him. His lustful green eyes open as Haymitch stops and moves over him, seeking approval and rubbing his adoring rod against Finn's masculine rose.

Finn smiles up at him and whispers, "I want you." He reaches above his head and hands Haymitch the tube of Slickwick after massaging a liberal amount lovingly on the colossal pole that once could have ripped him apart but now only brought him joy. Haymitch takes his time and shivers as he finally gains entry. "You're still so damned tight. I never want to cause you pain." Haymitch waits, motionless.

"It only takes a second. Just a moment of discomfort, then it is worth it." Finn tells him as always. He adjusts himself and changes the angle slightly then slowly begins stoking himself. "Please, Hay. The rest. You don't need to be gentle now. Love me like you need to." Finn pulls Haymitch's hips toward him and groans as he feels the deep thrust. They smile at each other silently, green trusting eyes locked on gray stone turning to lava. Faster and harder they rock together, sweat glistening and skin brilliant with the results of the thundering hearts and the building fire. Finn is on the edge as he sees the change of Haymitch's expression. Haymitch is silent as he flows into Finnick. Finnick is loud and boisterous as he spills and bombards Haymitch's chest and chin and himself with the evidence of his pleasure.

Haymitch lays on top of Finnick still firing small shivers of sensation as he deflates and slips from the one he still calls boy in his mind. He rolls off and Finnick immediately follows and lays his head on Haymitch's shoulder. Haymitch's arm tucks around Finn protectively.

They lay quietly together, each lost in the soft moment. Haymitch hears Finn try to hide a sniffle just before he registers the dampness touch his skin. "I am so sorry boy," Haymitch says again. "I wanted to be here when you were released, but I had tributes to bury. Then I had to deal with how close I came to it being you in the box. Took a few benders to get that distant enough to be seen in public, much less face you."

Finn lifts his head in confusion. "I nearly killed you, Hot Rocks. I should be apologizing."

Haymitch grins and winks at him. "Yeah, but the make-up-sex is so damned worth it."

"I know why they call you that. I run across people. I don't understand. I can't imagine that side of you. How can you? After what has been done to us?" Finn looks as if he could be sick with just the asking.

Haymitch glances at Finnick, as his face flushes. His mouth opens and he blinks to clear his eyes. His head rocks back and forth, until he can finally speak. His eyes glare hard at the still slowly spinning ceiling. "Please. Don't be afraid of me. Please." It's barely a whisper.

Finnick kisses Haymitch. Leaning over him, forcing him to look eye to eye, he says earnestly. "I am not afraid of you. Just for you."

Haymitch cocks his head a little. He rests his hand against Finn's cheek. "You are not the only one with loves to protect. Better me, than any of my lambs."

Finn very quietly lay his head down again. He would not be so peaceful and renewed when they parted this time.

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><p><strong><em>Ohhh – slashy man sex - I am not a gay man, nor do I even have any man parts –so if I have corrections to make, I would most appreciate PMs from any of those of the impeccably-groomed gentle-heart persuasion. All love is of beauty, so I hope to do it justice and maybe open one heart to light. Please feel free to correct me on any mechanical issues. Otherwise, reviews are treasured.<em>**


	9. 9 Father of Lies and Lilies F1

Dance cards : 9 Father of Lies and Lilies

**Author**: **Howlynn**  
><strong>Realm<strong>: _The Hunger Games_, Suzanne Collins  
><strong>Story Title<strong>: Dance Cards: 9 Father of Lies and Lilies  
><strong>Summary<strong>: _We all know in theory what the victors have to do. This is a little Peek into our favorite victor's appointments. _  
><strong>CharacterRelationships**: F1 – not smexy but Whiterabbit asked for the story behind…" In your other story 'Rome Smoulders' you mention a very pretty Capitol woman who may have borne a Seam brat. Could we hear that story? Pretty please?" - So I ended up with something that is sweet but dangerous and remorselessly manipulative.

I** Disclaimer:** All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

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><p>Haymitch looked down upon the small face the woman presented him. His eyes softened and he inhales the pleasurable essence that wafted from this bundle of potential trouble. "Hello Petronius. You have been genetically cursed with too much beauty to ever be unnoticed and the brains to change the world. You won't know me, but if you have half the heart of your mother, you will either be just fine, or a blasphemy to us all. I will always watch over you, my son. " He kisses the boy and handed him back to the girl.<p>

She let her eyes smile as she took her pride and joy back into her arms. Haymitch leans back and sighs at the picture before him. She has no idea how lovely she is. Her husband is a fool to take her for granted.

She takes the child, adjusts his wraps and disappears. An Avox brings an exquisite brandy sniffer on a small silver tray. Haymitch accepts it and the bottle sitting next to it. When the Avox bows and exits, Haymitch pours the contents of the glass into a nearby plant and quickly replaces the expensive amber liquid. He chuckles and quickly takes his place on the couch again before she reenters the room.

"I never expected such sentiment from you, Haymitch. Thought you were the great heartless playboy? The mentor to whores and friend of reprobates only?" she teases, studying him with fierce eyes.

"I am also that child's Father. No, don't look so terrified, I hang no claim before your husband. It was your intent? To beg me? Plead that for his sake, I pretend? I would never do him the harm of claiming him." Haymitch swirled the expensive liquor in his glass, but didn't drink it. He looked at it and raised the cut-glass sniffer to his lips, assessing her reaction. He set it on the side table untouched.

Her face falls for a split second, but she quickly plasters her smile back into place. She takes her seat across from him and drops her eyes and folds her hands formally.

"Don't look so disappointed. You don't really want me dead. You wouldn't have looked so pained if you really wanted to poison me." Haymitch says using his most seductive tone and his well-practiced Capitol inflection. He found the dialect annoying but it always served to unbalance the snobs. They made up all sorts of high-brow imagined histories for him, certain he was somehow one of them. It was a tool. He had a good ear and the ability to mimic the pronunciation of anyone he was with.

"You have me at a disadvantage," she denies.

"I do, indeed. I am not here to blackmail you. He isn't my only son you know?"

She stiffens slightly, "I have heard rumors. You are prolific."

"Which is not why you picked me for your little subterfuge of your husbands heart. What was it? You're quite young and pretty, a little tiger in the bedroom. Not afraid to enjoy yourself, but you not only employed me for the normal services, but in fact, sought to increase the sarcasm level of the world by one offspring. Why me for the sire? It can't have passed your notice, that I don't resemble your husband, and that boy does not support a pig's nose much less the ear disfigurement that would be required to pass him off as the progeny of a man who was once blond. It offers you no alliance of power, no possible monetary gain from me, you would be ruthlessly disgraced if anyone discovers, thus, you assume I might tell and offer me a witch's brew. So Why?" Haymitch rattles with no malice.

She hesitates. Haymitch smiles patiently or stubbornly depending on how it is interpreted. She heaves a sigh as if he's being a bother and flops herself deeper in the furniture breaking her proper posture and the stiffness she had attempted to convey. "My husband only inherits once he has a son or daughter. Children are the cement of familial alliance and no amount of whining or begging could break those terms. His grandmother administers our affairs and set her foot down most firmly. She felt I was not a proper wife until I had produced an heir. It has been four years. She accused me of preventing her great-grandchildren of having time to know her. His father demanded my womb bear fruit. He offered to seed the field by force if I continued to limit my husband's attentions. I have done no such thing. I do love my husband in every way a wife ought to, but he was letting them convince him that I was withholding his right to fatherhood. It isn't me. I had myself run through all the tests. The grand lady said I was a climber and intended to drive me away. I would be penniless. They would disgrace me. My only hope was to become the picture of devoted motherhood. You were convenient. Nothing more."

Haymitch smirks. His hand rests on his chin and his fingers toy with his lip. "And now I am not. Now you are afraid of me? "

"Of course I am. You are merciless. I wanted that quality in my child. He will need it to survive the political intrigues of the capitol. But, I didn't expect you to figure it out so easily. I never once considered you would be attached to it."

"But, once you knew I knew, you assumed I would what? Did you think I would demand your lily-white throat in the bonds of shackles and fairy tales? Did it even cross your mind that I can be both pleased and the very epitome of discretion? How would it serve my son for anyone to know? He has no chance of being slaughtered in a game, he has all the advantages of a capitol education, he will have every benefit and never know the shame of a drunken whore as his father. Don't think I'm a fool and don't bother acting like one."

"And should you bring the capitol to its knees? What then would his fate be? Don't look so surprised. Your plans could ruin his life. What better way to prevent that, then to simply kill you now?"

"I see." He picks up the sniffer and licks his lips. "This is what you want then? Hope you picked one of the painless ones. God, did you see Wilkerson's corpse? Just so you know, he's beautiful." He looks down at the liquor as if he's formally addressing it.

"Don't play with me," she says furious.

Haymitch doesn't say a word, simply tips the glass to his lips without hesitation. He tilts his head and closes his eyes.

The sniffer is knocked out of his hand. "You are insane, aren't you?" Her breath is coming in gasps and she trembles.

Haymitch stands, towering over her, and smirking. "Had me worried for a second there, sweetheart."

She looks up at him and swallows. He can see her resolve arguing with her feelings. "I should have…"she trails off, unable to quite remember what she intended to say.

Haymitch wraps his arms around her and smirk planted on his face he sighs and nuzzles into her extraordinary neck. He let his sigh turn into a hum and finally finishing as a low purr. "But you would miss me too much, my dear little matronly assassin. And who knows, he may want a brother someday." He teases.

"Only you would try to seduce someone who just tried to kill you. I hope my son inherited you stainless steel testes. " she sounds angry, but she doesn't pull away from him.

"They will work so admirably with that frozen heart and those little lasers shooting from your eyes." He kisses her nose and laughs.

She sighs indulgently. "Why aren't you mad?" She looks up and unconsciously bats her fake feathered eyelashes. On her, the gesture is charming.

"Who says I'm not?" he whispers just in her ear promising punishment or pleasure as if they are interchangeable.

"Should I fear your vengeance?" she lifts her chin defiantly, but her eyes sparkle with fear.

He cups her cheeks and slides one hand to the nape of her neck, fisting a wad of dark black hair that flashes highlights of blue in the brightest light. The thumb of his other hand ghosts over the lips encased in glitter of pale pink. She closes her eyes, waiting to be kissed, heart beating wildly with danger and arousal.

"Most definitely. But not the kind you will expect. I have no mind whatsoever to make our secret not a secret. But you need to keep in awareness that he is my son. I don't ask it to create harm for you or him. But the fact may someday protect his life. I insist he be mindful of me. No don't look horrified."

Her eyes have flown open."How do you expect a child to understand how lethal one wrong word would be?"

"Don't be ridiculous. I am not asking to show up for Pater Filius events. I am asking that you allow him some measure of fondness toward me. Let him be accustomed to me. If we are ever at some junction in which I can protect him, a simple acquaintance would serve well enough. Perhaps allowing him to have an occasional pass to the mentor's booth?"

"But you always lose. Who wants to cheer for the worst players?" Her face apologizes even as her bluntness passes her lips.

He winks, telling her that he takes no actual offence for the truth." I am a celebrity. You could foster that. Mummy could develop a fondness for the poor wretched district's tributes. Play the kind hearted sponsor who only wants to see the underdog have a small hope. Your husband will see such feminine foolishness with his hard earned inheritance charming. I would of course be so appreciative that his occasional presence, our association for the great games would not be questioned, " he explains carefully.

"To what purpose? You are not fit to be babysitting. I have seen your violent antics during the games. Not to mention, the fact sobriety eludes you each year. I doubt watching you curse would be a good influence. Vomiting on his shoes would hardly make him like you, Haymitch."

"You, of all people, should know my public persona is not as accurate as the media would have you believe. I vow to refrain from unseemly behavior in his presence. Your husband is a great fan of my games, my dear. I would extend invitation to him on occasion as well. I could appear so very respectful of him, and your assistance to my poor tributes, that no one would question that my high regard would influence my demeanor."

"I will consider it. Maybe." She seems still unconvinced. "I don't see why you find it so important."

"If my plans ever work, it could save his life, without you needing to experience the joys of my death convulsions upon your pretty carpet. You picked me. You just failed to finish your deceptive little deed. Why not trust me if you think highly enough of me to bear my child? You have my loyalty because of his existence. Did I not just prove it? Offering to ingest your brutal toxin?" Haymitch tilts his head innocently. He gives her his best look of adoration.

She sighs as if she knows she's lost all common measures of self-preservation. "I am a fool. I will probably regret my sentiment for you, and it will come to pass that I pay for such imprudence of my heart. But you are right. It would weigh on me to watch you die. Knowing you knew and that the thought of my betrayal affected you so. That you would die for me. I have never known such overwhelming remorse."

Haymitch manufactures the appearance of tears. He doesn't actually cry, just lets his eyes go a bit watery for effect. "Surely you know, I can never proclaim how deeply I care for you. But never doubt. Never doubt me again. It would break my heart."

She nods and her own eyes well with emotion. "Chances are you will only fail. You do know that?"

"I do. I will not involve you in any way. And that is not the only path that could occur. Even if he somehow merely steps out of favor as a teen for instance, is framed for or participates in some crime. Power is a double edged sword sometimes. Your husband's family tends to have enemies. The boy won't be immune to the jealousies of his eventual position in life. Let him know and trust me enough that he is aware that he can turn to me for help. Let him know that he can count on me. It is all I ask. My only desire is to be a failsafe emergency alliance. A friendly guide. I will never reveal the source of my affection."

"And what do you hope to gain? Haymitch, I do know how you operate. I do have friends who have had dealings with you. Emotions aside. Sponsorship guaranteed. What else? What do you really want?"

"You are a brilliant little thing. Ok. I can't fool you entirely. It is nothing bad. Nothing harmful. I want to know that should I require a favor, that you would help me, no questions asked. It would not be anything grievous to your position or that of Petronius. It may be as simple as planting a rumor, or as silly as snubbing someone openly. I don't know if I will ever even require such a thing, but I do ask for the promise. That's all. Not so bad is it, sweetheart?" He tilts his chin down and looks at her already knowing her answer.

It is several hours before he leaves. He is allowed to have one last peek at the sleeping child. He whistles on the way back to his quarters. For a man who has no open family, he has been blessed. Of course his blessings are also a curse in some ways. His children do not know him. He is denied the presence of their hearts and all the wonders of having a close family. But for now, he must simply be thankful that no matter how far from ideal the situation is, that they do give him a reason.

Life would not be worth the trouble if he didn't have some tiny hope. He would have no reason to fight, if his heart were unbound again. If he were in fact a reclusive, drunken slave, alone in the world, he would not survive. Even in the shadows of sanity that he sometimes finds himself trapped, his hidden and therefore protected family draw him back. Yes he is cold. Yes he is a calculating bastard who fakes affection and vulnerability and incompetence. But, he isn't lost. The unseen love is real. His path may be filled with thorns and hunger, but he doesn't walk alone.

He has his poor lambs. He has his wolves. He has a dynasty of progenies scattered like lily weeds in the rose garden. Roses may be hardy, thinking they are invulnerable with their armor of thorns and untouchable displays of gaudy perfection but they are dependent on delicate roots. The lily rarely puts on much of a show, doesn't scent the air demanding everyone pay attention, but underground it is a rampant weed. The lily can kill a rose by slowly encroaching and cutting off the rose's nutrients. The rose plant will weaken as the lily bulbs grow strong.

If the world burns, the rose will die, its thorns no match for fire. But, deep underground, when the winter snow melts, and spring returns, the lilies will stand.

Haymitch stops in the official games flower merchant on his way home. He orders the sprigs for his tributes coffins, as he does each year. He tucks one flower in his lapel, and caries a vase of them in each hand. At the training center he hands the District 12 Avox both bouquets and instructs her to place one in the dining room and one in Effie Trinkets office.

Effie smiles stiffly at him that evening and he ignores her.

She corners him in the elevator. "Why lilies? They were obviously from you. They are for funerals, not to convey affection. Did you know they are inappropriate to give to someone alive?"

"I like lilies. Lilies symbolize that the soul of the departed has received restored innocence after death. A perfect soul. All mistakes forgotten. Throw them away if you want to. I wasn't calling ill down upon you. I just hope for lilies, sweetheart." He exits on level four, explaining no further.

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><p>Next one will be F5 – so those of you in the kinky barn, don't give up – evil grin. Please review!<p> 


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